“I’m sorry. That was impolite,” Mychal said as he looked at his feet.
“It only proved my point. You need to be aware of how your anger can affect you.”
Mychal brushed the dirt from his trousers. “Anger helps me focus.”
“It keeps you weighed down and vulnerable. You must do something to let it go. Meditate, exercise, anything to get rid of it and practice calming your mind. If you can lose the anger, you’ll find that you will move as light and as clear as air.” Ásgeirr moved through a series of strikes, graceful and silent. He walked to where two foot long metal cylinders lay on the grass. He handed one to Mychal who had stopped trying to think or object and shut up and listen. It was a new experience to be beaten so thoroughly and effortlessly. The metal in his hand was cool and heavily engraved. He turned it over a few times and inspected the tracings.
“You are not ready to use that yet, but I want you to get an idea of the feel and the weight for when the time comes,” Ásgeirr said as he moved away from him again, giving him space.
“I don’t understand. This isn’t a spear,” Mychal replied, the smooth metal moving over and over.
“It isn’t?” Ásgeirr held his out in his right hand and with a quick jerking movement the metal in his hand grew straight out of both ends until it was as long as the Álfr was tall. The top of the spear tapered into a thin sharpened blade.
“The Álfr,” Mychal shook his head. He held out his arm and shook the metal in the same movement. Underneath his fingers, he felt something give, like a small button in the engraving he hadn’t noticed, and the spear slid itself out.
“That’s incredible.” Mychal moved his hands up it, looking for a joint, or a hinge, anything that would give the weapon a weakness. There was nothing but a very beautiful and solid weapon. He moved it so it lay flat against his palm, feeling its balance. He laughed with joy at the simplicity and perfect make.
“There’s hope for you yet, Mychal,” Ásgeirr commented. “You’ve a warrior’s heart and the shining steel in your hand will fill it with songs of glory and battle.”
“It’s brilliant. The way it shrinks and expands would be so perfect for concealing it and for travelling with.”
“Weapons need to be practical first. They need to become a part of you, a perfect extension of yourself.” Ásgeirr moved his spear, swinging it in a fluid arc. “Now, get ready for lesson number one.”
Chapter Nine - The Blood Spell
Aramis stepped around over turned furniture and accidentally kicked an empty bottle. There was a roll of leather lying on the bench top and a sharp steak knife was in a threatening position beside it.
“Anya?” he called. She hadn’t left her room in days and when he tried to pressure Yvan into getting any sense out of her, the surly Russian had turned into the firebird and ignored him.
Aramis knocked on her bedroom door. “Anya?” He tried the door handle but it didn’t budge. He placed a hand on the wood and felt her magic keeping it shut. Well, two could play at that game, especially when they shared parts of each other’s power. He pushed magic into the door until it connected and linked with his. The spell recognised him and it broke under his command.
“Anyanka?” Aramis opened the door. There were clothes and bed sheets scattered on the floor. He found her in the bathtub wearing one of Trajan’s purple shirts. The tub had no water in it but was filled with Trajan’s clothes and books. Her eyes were blank. They were the eyes of someone who didn’t have a single tear left inside of them. She was clutching a dog-eared copy of Pablo Neruda poems to her chest.
“Dear one,” he whispered and stroked her head. She was shaking and she gripped the book tighter to her.
“I don’t remember what happened in the forest, hjarta bróđr.” Anya reached up and gripped his arm. “I’ve a head full of words and sounds that aren’t my own. Izrayl said I had sex with the Groenn Skaer, but I can’t remember. I was a wolf and there was blood, earth, and heat. Spring.” Aramis knelt down beside the bath and took her face gently in her hands.
“Anyanka, you had the power of the forest inside of you. No human should’ve been able to survive that. You did and you let it go.”
“I heard Yvan.” Her shaking became worse and her eyes wouldn’t focus on him. “Did you see how he looked at me, hjarta bróđr?”
“He had a very rough night, Anya. He was very worried about you and it was too much for him.”
“He’s going to leave like Trajan. Like Eikki and Ilya…” Her face crumpled in on itself. Aramis was starting to worry. This wasn’t her usual drunken ramble.
“He’s not going to leave you and neither am I. In fact, I’m going to get him right now. Just… stay here.” Anya sank back into her nest of clothes and seemed to pacify. He hurried from the room, hiding the knife off the bench on his way through. He found Yvan pacing in his room.
“Please, Yvan, don’t change, just listen!” Aramis begged before Yvan could say anything. “You must go to Anya. I know you are angry with her but the forest…something has happened. She’s not right in the head. She isn’t Anya. It’s like she can’t remember who she is. The forest has let her go but it’s taken something from her.”
“Then what do you need me for? It’s Álfr magic.”
“Your voice called her back, Yvan.” Aramis gripped his arm tightly, “She loves you and you are the only one who can make her mind right again. She thinks you are going to leave her. That’s the only coherent thing I could get out of her.”
“Ask the Groenn Skaer. He did it to her and she let him.”
“I don’t think she let him do anything. She can’t remember anything, Yvan! Only that your voice called her back. You were there. You saw what she was when she walked from the forest.”
“She looked willing enough.” Aramis’s fist lashed out and hit Yvan in the face. He stumbled but didn’t fall.
“Anya was under a spell, Yvan. You saw it at the beginning of the night. What makes you think that she knew what she was doing? You’re the person she loves and relies on most. If you leave her now, I don’t know what she will do.”
“I wasn’t going to leave her,” Yvan said as he rubbed his jaw.
“You’d best go and tell her that yourself. If the forest has scattered her mind, then we need to bring it back.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could you kiss her like in New Orleans and bring her power back to her body?”
“Her power is there. She had spells on the doors trying to keep everyone away from her. The rest of her isn’t there. She was mumbling, calling me hjarta bróđr, heart brother. That’s an Álfr term I haven’t taught her. It is the name of a powerful bond, it’s implications alone…I haven’t heard the term spoken about in over a century. She is saying that there were words in her head that weren’t hers. I believe that she’s had memories imbedded in her, like a racial memory of the actual forest.”
“Only Anya,” Yvan sighed, his cold demeanour finally broken.
“Trajan and I have always had to compete for Anya’s affections,” Aramis said gently. “She makes it hard to get to know or understand her. We both knew that we can’t have anything with Anya without having Yvan as well. You’re the one person she trusts explicitly. She has never believed or listened to anyone but you, Prince Yvan.”
“Because I’m the Hero,” he murmured softly.
“Go to her, Yvan. Bring her back. Find out what Ilya’s instructions are so that we can put an end to all this and she can be at peace.” Yvan held out his hand and Aramis took it, as they gripped each other’s forearms.
“Thank you for hitting me. You are a good man.”
“As are you. Now go and save her.”
A wave of guilt crashed into Yvan as he saw the state of Anya’s rooms. You shouldn’t have been so angry at her, the firebird said. Yvan ignored it as he always did when he knew it was right.
She was still in the bathtub where Aramis had left her. Half buried in books and cloth
es, as if she was trying to surround herself with Trajan’s presence. Her green eyes were far away. Yvan pulled a chair close to the tub, but didn’t try to touch her.
“Anyanka,” he whispered softly, “are you in there, shalosť ?” She blinked once but didn’t reply. “I’m sorry I walked away from you when you needed me. I have been such an angry fool. I don’t know if you can hear me, but you should know something, something that I haven’t told anyone.”
Yvan took a deep steadying breath. “Helena betrayed me, sold me out to Vasilli. When he got what he wanted from her and left her in a distraught heap, she told me that he had put her under a spell. That he’d made her betray me, our wedding vows, our trust, but it was a lie. When I saw you, so distraught and so pleading like her, I thought you were lying too. I saw her, not my shalosť. Something in me broke with Helena’s betrayal and you bore the anger of it. I’m so sorry I abandoned you.” Yvan reached down and stroked her cold cheek.
“Help me, Yvan,” she said so softly he thought he had imagined it. “Get the voices out.” Her eyes rolled back into her head and closed. He leaned down and lifted her from her nest of memories. She felt light in his arms, as if she was a shell and all that was Anya was gone. Yvan sat on the floor, holding her limp body close to him.
Kiss her, the firebird instructed, I will touch her with fire and scare the forest from her mind. Yvan touched her pale lips and hesitated. She still hadn’t opened her eyes.
What if it doesn’t work and she wakes while I am taking liberties?
Stop thinking of your own pride, you foolish boy!
“Forgive me,” Yvan whispered before tilting her head back and kissed her softly.
Heat from the firebird poured through his lips as they moved against her. It pulsed its way through her and Yvan lifted from the embrace as colour flushed back into her cheeks. Her hand moved up into his black hair and instantly Yvan was pulled into a vision. Anya was alone and surrounded by darkness. Glowing eyes watched her, a whisper of voices all around her as they were closing in. Above her, a light started to grow and Yvan looked up to see the firebird descending. It hovered in the air above Anya’s head like a vengeful halo. The voices ceased as the firebird began to burn brighter until it was white with heat. A terrible screeching panic ensued as the light exploded all around until only Anya remained, standing in the ashes of her tormentors.
Her hand fell away from Yvan’s head and he was back in her bathroom, gasping for air. Anya shuddered in his arms before her eyes opened, dark and heavy but alert.
“Moy geroy,” she whispered. He hugged her tightly, squeezing her with joy and relief.
“I’ll always be your hero,” he promised. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“I’m sorry I failed you too.”
“What happened, Anya? Where did you go?” Yvan asked.
“I gave up on myself. Not to be me for even a moment seemed like a dream. I let the memory of the forest take me. I didn’t question it, I didn’t fight it.”
“And then it didn’t want to give you back.”
“Yes. It left when you commanded but traces remained hidden. I was inside watching myself. I was Anya and I wasn’t. The firebird…”
“It burned them out,” Yvan finished as he stroked her forehead. “I saw. You touched me and I saw.”
“How did you bring me back?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Magic,” he answered quickly. “The firebird knew what it was doing.”
“I can’t remember…Aramis…” she touched her head.
“I’ll go and get him if you like.” Anya nodded and Yvan helped her stand. She looked around disorientated.
“Why is the bath full of Trajan’s things?”
“Now that I can’t answer for you,” Yvan smiled. “I’m sure wherever he is, he doesn’t mind.”
“It must be bound with some kind of spell,” Aramis said as he turned the rolled up piece of leather in his hands. Anya had bathed, dressed and eaten by the time Yvan had fetched Aramis. She was wearing one of Trajan’s dress shirts over a pair of jeans and it looked surprisingly good on her.
She always did prefer the men’s clothes, the firebird commented. Yvan remembered the baggy jumper of Eikki’s he had met her in and a small smile touched his lips.
“I couldn’t figure out how to open it,” Anya admitted. “I’ve tried everything from magic to physical force. I know it’s only leather, but I couldn’t even make a scratch in the bindings. I haven’t been thinking very clearly in the last few days though…” She frowned and Aramis touched her shoulder reassuringly. Their magic was moving between them in glittering waves of light, twisting and combining in an endless flow. Yvan had never seen it so visible and bright before. He still didn’t completely understand it, but it seemed to calm Anya and that’s all he cared about.
“What was it that Ruthann said about it…something to do with Ilya…?” Aramis mused aloud.
“He said blud taf…something,” Yvan tried to sound out the shape of the words but his tongue seemed reluctant to wrap around them.
“That’s it!” Aramis exclaimed, “Blođtaufr! It is bound by a blood spell. You need blood to open it.”
“Wait…you mean my blood? How much blood?” Anya asked nervously.
“It makes sense. Ilya learned his spell based magic by secretly watching Yanka and her power is predominately blood magic.”
“But still…”
“Maybe try a single drop,” Yvan suggested. “I doubt it would demand much more than that.”
“Fine, but you better do it.” Anya opened a drawer and offered him a knife. “I will chicken out.”
“A prick on the finger worries you, but you closed the gates fine,” Yvan pointed out as he took the knife.
“That was different. I was myself then and I don’t really trust myself right now. The next time I go back, I’ll close without any blood. It was Yanka’s way, not mine.” Yvan saw the edges of panic in her eyes.
There is no trace of the forest left in her, the firebird reassured him. He took her hand and made a small cut in her index finger. Aramis held out the leather scroll and Anya let the blood drip onto it. As the third drop fell, the pressure in the room dropped, making Yvan’s ears pop. The fine leather thongs began to unravel. Anya rolled the circular piece of leather out on the bench top and peered over the faded writing.
“What does it say?” Aramis asked eagerly.
“Something like ‘Pride will be her undoing, break her power and strike her down using the Sword of Ukko wielded by the servant of heaven. Stand together at the crossroads between worlds, Firebird prince, Ljósálfar guardian and Ilya’s blood. Together you have enough power to take the world back’.” Anya turned the leather over in her hands searching for more writing.
“Prophets,” Yvan muttered.
“I’ve never been written into a prophecy before. No wonder you find it so unpleasant, Anya,” Aramis said as he sat down.
“It’s more like directions than a prophecy. So, we know that we have to stand together, us three.” Anya paced. “But does it mean in the magical or literal sense? I can join power with Aramis but I have never tried it with you, Yvan. And this Sword of Ukko reference…”
“We should tell the others,” Yvan suggested. “The more minds the better.”
Chapter Ten - The Instrument of Heaven and the Gate Chooser
“Trust Ilya to be this cryptic,” Fox said as she studied the piece of leather.
“It’s a requirement for prophets,” Isabelle added. “They don’t believe in an instruction list.”
“Prophecy is like catching smoke with your hands. It isn’t accurate or straight forward,” Søren muttered but Anya was surprised he contributed at all.
Ruthann paced slowly, his hands steepled to his lips. Yvan had managed to gather everyone with the exception of Mychal. Aleksandra had mentioned that he was out training but was unsure where. Most of them where trying not to stare at Anya or bombard her with questions. Izrayl had sniffed h
er cautiously as he hugged her but she didn’t mention it.
Anya wished she had slept, as Aramis suggested, before getting the loud group together but she needed to be around them. Despite their differences in nature, they were as human as she could get.
“It’s nice to see you have gotten out of your Howard Hughes moment, Anya,” Cerise purred as she ran her red nails affectionately through Anya’s fair hair. She was smiling, but her eyes were genuinely worried. Anya tried to smile but she knew she didn’t have to. The keres understood her grief for Trajan better than anyone in the room did. “Although I think it’s a ruse to get all these strapping men to kiss you. Next time I have a headache, I’m calling you, Yvan,” Cerise teased making him turn as red as the firebird.
“What kiss?” Anya asked.
“The Sword of Ukko is a blatant reference to Finnish mythology,” Fox interrupted the argument about kissing and crazy prophets they had all known at one time or another.
“Ukko is the Finnish equivalent of Thor, isn’t he? I thought he had a hammer too, not a sword,” Katya asked as she tossed an apple from one hand to the other.
“Depends,” Anya said quietly. “He’s a sky god, but he is the chief of the gods too. The only real reference I know of a sword is the magic talking broad sword that Ukko gave to Kullervo.” She turned the battered copy of The Kalevala over in her hands. “The story is in here. Eikki used to tell it to me.”
“A magic sword,” Hamish chuckled. “All we need is a quest and a few dwarfs and we will be set.”
“Anya has a quest,” Ruthann said, failing to understand the joke. “She has to find this sword and use it to kill Yanka.”
“The only reference I have is mythology!” Anya said. “The stories don’t mention what happened to the sword after Kullervo kills himself.”
“Then that is where we need to start,” Aramis shrugged. “We trace the steps and hopefully we’ll find it. Ilya wouldn’t have told you to find it if it was impossible.”
“Like he wouldn’t give the prophecy to the Groenn Skaer if he was going to rape Anya?” Yvan muttered. Anya’s stomach churned and Yvan took her hand, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Rise of the Firebird Page 11